The Snape Incident
by Lavendah
Summary: Hogwarts, 1977, and much that ensues in the Marauders' sixth year. I am continuing as planned, despite OotP. Chapter three up!
1. September 1, 1977

Chapter 1  
  
September 1, 1977  
  
Remus Lupin smiled quietly next to the window, in good company, graced by good weather, and on his way to the best place he could possibly be. In a word, content. His three first, closest, and without a doubt most understanding friends — the best friends of his life — were animatedly discussing Quidditch in the seats around him.  
  
Don't be stupid, Pete, Chudley? Sirius Black exclaimed. Haven't got a prayer!  
  
Oh, and I suppose you're for Falmouth? Peter Pettigrew sniffed, arching his blonde eyebrows and peering up at Sirius.  
  
You've both picked losing teams; James Potter interjected casually, and the other two turned on him.  
  
Is that so? Sirius asked, staring at his best friend down his oft-broken Beater's nose.  
  
Peter shook his head. James, poor deluded sod, is for Puddlemere — because of their new Chaser, Donnels.  
  
James was about to make an indignant remark, but Sirius cut him off with a sly grin. Fancy him, do you? What would Lily say?  
  
What would I say about what? Lily Evans asked from the door of the compartment.  
  
James sputtered and flushed pink, while Sirius explained smoothly, Only Quidditch, Lily, nothing to fret about, and Peter sniggered.  
  
Well, I'm sure it's fascinating, but I'm afraid I must steal Jamie away from you boys; Duncan Boot needs us for a Prefect's meeting. Lily took James's arm and shooed him from the compartment. I'll send Maggie and Belle to keep you company, shall I? The red-haired witch flashed them a smile and whisked away.  
  
Sirius and Remus shared a significant glance over Peter's head (the other boy had buried his nose in the Quidditch magazine that had started the argument). Margaret Nakamura and Arabella Figg were the other two Gryffindor sixth-years, and were both completely unaware of the amorous tendencies towards them that these two of their housemates had. That is, Remus had been in love with Arabella for two years now, and Sirius claimed that Margaret had a nice arse. Of course, Margaret was systematically working her way through Ravenclaw House for boyfriends, and had been since before Sirius decided he liked her; and Belle was... Belle. Or perhaps the real issue here was that Remus was simply — shy.  
  
Peter glanced up. Was it something I said? he asked, looking between them confusedly. Really, I would expect Sirius, at least, to be blathering on about _something_ by now.  
  
They were rescued from that awkward moment and plunged into a new, slightly less obvious one when Margaret and Arabella appeared at the door. Lily said we ought to keep you boys out of trouble, said Margaret, by way of salutation.  
  
Merlin only knows how we're expected to do _that_, Arabella laughed, dropping into the seat next to Peter and snatching the_ Quidditch Quarterly_ from his hands. What's this? Chudley Cannons? Pete, I thought you'd know better! she exclaimed.  
  
Precisely what we were telling him, Sirius agreed.  
  
Remus chuckled and shook his head, reaching over Peter for the magazine and rifling through the pages. Margaret sat next to Sirius and turned the discussion from professional Quidditch to evaluation of this year's house teams. None of this was of much concern to Remus, who did not play Quidditch, so he returned the _Quidditch Quarterly_ to Peter and pulled his Ancient Runes text from his bookbag. Arabella reached over Peter and pulled this from his hands. he exclaimed.  
  
Remus, you're a dear, but you need to live a little! Being too studious will give you grey hairs, Arabella scolded, and Sirius shot him another Significant Glance.  
  
Come on, Remus, just pretend for a little while that you care about Quidditch, like I am, and talk to us! Margaret begged. Merlin knows these two aren't worth much conversation. Peter pulled a face and Sirius punched her arm huffily.  
  
They really aren't, are they? commented Remus, watching his friends with amusement. Of course, they're quite useful for Potions — there has to be someone to test the concoctions. Under this further disparagement, Sirius grumbled softly and Peter poked him in the ribs.  
  
Well, it's hardly their fault that they don't realize both of their teams will lose to Holyhead this year. Oh, wait, it is their fault, for backing bad teams, Arabella mocked.  
  
Margaret shook her head. Honestly. So, who's going to be up late tonight finishing work?  
  
Sirius raised his hand sheepishly. I tried to read the section on Quintapeds, really, but — that damn text is so boring!  
  
Arabella shook her head. Well, I didn't even _look_ at the Potions work, not that it would have made a difference in the marks I get from Brindle, she snorted. You, Gritty?  
  
Margaret wrinkled her nose. You know I don't like that nickname, Belle. And I haven't finished the Arithmancy work.  
  
Merlin, it's not as if they spend their summers grading. Why should we have to do so much work over the hols? Peter grumbled.  
  
Oh? And what have you still got to do, Pete? Or, rather, what's Remus got to do? smirked Sirius. The small, roundish boy shifted uncomfortably and mumbled.  
  
What's that, Pete? We couldn't quite make it out, Arabella teased.  
  
Potions, Transfiguration, and Herbology. he repeated, louder and enunciated.  
  
Remus shook his head. _By Selene — three essays._ Well, it's good to know now what I'll be doing tonight, he frowned. It had become something of a ritual over the last five years for he and James (and Sirius, upon occasion) to assist Peter in his Potions work, which was less than stellar. More often than not, constituted hastily forging essays in Peter's semi-legible scrawl and hissing instructions over a bubbling cauldron, but they didn't grudge him the help. What were friends for? Or so Remus and James told themselves, repeatedly.  
  
Conversation was interrupted as the witch pushing the food cart rapped on the door; pockets were emptied and snacks purchased, and for a few minutes the crackling of paper and the clinking of coins filled the void of sound.  
  
Uric the Oddball, Peter announced, holding up a Chocolate Frog card.  
  
Oh! I haven't got him, Arabella exclaimed.  
  
Really? Everyone else I know has about five, commented Margaret. She didn't indulge in the card-collecting, as her family disapproved of such trivial pursuits.  
  
Have it, Belle, I think I've got seven of him at home, Peter grinned, and Arabella pulled a face at him.  
  
The compartment door slid open again, and the occupants looked up, expecting to see Lily and James back from the Prefect meeting, but they were mistaken, much to the annoyance of nearly everyone. Severus Snape stood in the doorway, wearing an unpleasant smile and a Prefect badge. He focused all of his attention upon Arabella, pointedly ignoring the other Gryffindors occupying the compartment. Belle. I'd like a word.  
  
Arabella glanced at Margaret, who raised her eyebrows. With a toss of her sunny golden hair, she stood and nodded cordially. Lead on, Severus. She stepped out of the compartment and Snape shut the door after her.  
  
Peter pursed his lips. I wish Belle would get tired of that git. What does she see in him, anyway?  
  
Margaret sighed. At least he didn't try to start anything with us, she said.  
  
Sirius was scowling. I almost wish he had — great, slimy bugger.  
  
Remus leaned down and rummaged in his bookbag. He had been suppressing a growl that had begun to rise in his throat and forcing his face to remain expressionless, and now he snarled at his quills.  
  
Margaret almost laughed when he pulled a bar of chocolate from his bag. Snape's horrible, but he's not a Dementor, Remus!  
  
No, but it'll make you feel better nonetheless, he replied, breaking off four good-sized pieces of the chocolate and passing them around.  
  
Lily and James returned several minutes later, grousing about the Head Boy, Duncan Boot, and his controlling tendencies. Remus handed them chocolate as well, and Lily laughed.  
  
The train ride continued much in this vein. Arabella never did get back from her with Snape. She reappeared at the Gryffindor table at the feast, looking rather hastily put-together.  
  
Grant Boyd shook his head. It's really too bad about Universal Brooms folding, eh? He was a seventh-year and Seeker on the Gryffindor house team, and had bought a new broom from the company last year.  
  
Across the table, Esme Taylor, a fifth-year and Chaser, shrugged. Their brooms don't age well, but they're nice enough.  
  
Margaret, who was sitting next to Esme, sighed wearily. Can we please have a conversation that isn't about Quidditch or brooms? It's all Pete and Sirius could talk about on the train, and I crave intellectual stimulation.  
  
Sirius raised his eyebrows. We could always refine our plans to terrorize the firsties...  
  
But Sirius! Then everyone would hear, and we'd be forced to kill them! James cried in mock horror.  
  
And I, as a Prefect, would have to tell Professor McGonagall... and James would be stripped of his badge! Lily exclaimed, playing along.  
  
If she thought responsibility might keep him in line, she was sorely mistaken, Remus commented, poking his mashed potato mountain with his fork.  
  
I don't understand what that woman was thinking when she chose the Prefects. I mean, Lily was a shoo-in, but James? Arabella said, smirking. She brushed a strand of hair behind her hear.  
  
Really? Who do you propose _should_ have been Prefect, Belle? James asked, a bit huffily.  
  
Me, of course! Sirius interjected.  
  
(Didn't we have this conversation last year? Peter asked, but was quite altogether ignored.)  
  
Hardly! If you think at all, it really should have been Remus. Arabella said. Sirius shot his friend the third Significant Glance of the day. He has the best marks of all of you, and he isn't getting detentions every other day — Sirius — and costing our House points.  
  
We more than earn them back in Quidditch! Sirius and James protested in unison. They apparently _had_ had this conversation last year — it was the same exact argument.  
  
And once again, the conversation turns back to sport. Margaret grumbled.  
  
Aww, poor Megs needs stimulation! Peter said.  
  
I'll stimulate you, Meg, Sirius offered, leaning toward her.  
  
Better not, Black — or her boyfriend will pound you, Grant cautioned, interjecting from his own conversation.  
  
I'm not afraid of some Ravenclaw bookworm, stated Sirius, with much bravado.  
  
He's not just any Ravenclaw bookworm — Margaret began indignantly.  
  
Good, otherwise we'd have to murder him for not deserving our Megs. James interrupted.  
  
I'd have to dump you if you did, on behalf of my best friend Maggie who actually _likes_ her Ravenclaw bookworm — Lily told him.  
  
— For reasons unfathomable, Arabella finished. Lily laughed in agreement.  
  
Much like _your_ reasons for liking that slimy git, Bella? Peter challenged.  
  
Really, Peter, you shouldn't insult Sirius that way. He's not so slimy once you get to know him. she retorted.  
  
Although he _is _a git. Remus chuckled.  
  
And here I thought you were on my side, Re, Sirius pouted playfully. If you go on insulting me, we'll exclude you from the orgy in the dormitory tonight. Lily, who had been taking a sip of pumpkin juice, snorted with laughter and almost choked, while James coloured fiercely.  
  
You're such a homophobe, James! Arabella accused, laughing. She leaned across the table toward Sirius. I bet it'll really get him if you give Remus a little smooch.  
  
Remus raised his eyebrows at Sirius, who shrugged. What's in it for us? he asked.  
  
Margaret, Peter, and Arabella consulted. Three galleons, take it or leave it, Margaret announced.  
  
Sirius exclaimed.  
  
Sirius! I thought I was worth more to you! Remus cried dramatically, playing along.  
  
It's their final offer! I'll take what I can get! Sirius argued defensively. Remus considered, then shrugged. Sirius grinned triumphantly and pounced on the slighter boy. James turned absolutely purple and made choking noises as his friends disappeared below table-level, Remus's hand clutching at the edge of the table top.  
  
James, darling, are you _sure_ you're not related to my sister's fiance? Lily asked between giggles.  
  
said Peter, whistling, his face tomato-red.  
  
_That_ was some kiss, Margaret said.  
  
A six-galleon kiss, Arabella agreed, digging into her pockets, and Sirius grinned as they surfaced. Remus was just relieved that somehow, it had escaped the notice of the teachers — they already tread lightly enough around him.  
  
Remus stared out the window of the sixth-year boys' dormitory. He had finished Peter's homework about a quarter of an hour ago. Peter was snoring softly, and James occasionally mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. The moon was a thin crescent, but it was waxing.  
  
He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. You've got a fortnight yet, right? Sirius asked. He nodded mutely. Good! See, this is the perfect time for school to start, because you're not all apathetic and dead on your feet, but neither are you stressed out and being all alpha-wolf on us. And there's time to plan our first adventure of the year!  
  
Adventure. Hah. If you say so, Sirius.  
  
I do say so.  
  
Silence. Sirius's hand was still on his shoulder. Remus wondered briefly if the other boy had fallen asleep — but no, that was silly, Sirius could never sleep on the first of September. He was, he claimed, too busy to be tired: he had pranks to plan. Sleep is for turtles, he had said last year, in an odd fit of animal comparisons.  
  
You know what else, Moony?  
  
Of course there was something else. There was always something else with Sirius. What else, Padfoot?  
  
I think Belle might have been on to something at dinner.  
  
I'm afraid I don't follow.  
  
Well, neither of us can have who we want —  
  
What are you saying, Sirius? He now turned to face the other boy.  
  
I'm, ah, propositioning you, Remus.


	2. In which classes are attended

Chapter 2  
  
Where are James and Lily?  
  
Charms classroom — what'd I tell you, Pete? Having a good snog, I'm sure.  
  
Honestly! They're Prefects! objected Peter, as Sirius rolled up the Map and began to clomp down the stairs.  
  
And all _that_ means is that if they get caught, they can claim they were patrolling. Remus said mildly, following Peter into the common room.  
  
Belle! Everyone's here? Sirius asked. The blonde girl nodded, indicating the full common room with a wave of her hand. Remus's eyes inadvertently followed that hand as it described an arc in the air, then came to rest upon her hip. He jerked his attention back to Sirius has he clambered up onto a table and cleared his throat.  
  
Ahem. Everyone? Hi there. A few fourth-year girls giggled; Remus supposed they fancied Sirius. I'm sure you all know Lily Evans and James Potter, our two sixth-year Prefects? He paused as a nod and murmur of explanation traversed the common room. Well, next Thursday is Lily's seventeenth birthday — a very important birthday, I'm sure you all agree —  
  
asked a particularly plucky Muggle-born first year.  
  
Margaret replied, a witch or wizard is considered to be of-age when they turn seventeen.  
  
And so we'd like to do a little something for her, Sirius continued. A surprise party!  
  
An excited wall of sound rose to meet Sirius, still on the table. Quiet, you lot! I'm not done! The Gryffindors quieted obligingly — if he was going to plan a party, they would do what they could to assist. So, on Thursday after supper, I'd like you all to come up here quickly ad hide somewhere so we can surprise Lily! If we need anyone's assistance in particular, I'll contact you personally. Thank you! There was something of a hubbub as the Gryffindors all returned to their usual tasks and Sirius jumped off the table. Remus, Peter, Arabella, and Margaret gazed at him expectantly, and he had the audacity to look right back. So, what next? he asked, to the shock and dismay of the other sixth-years.  
  
How should we know, Sirius? _You're_ the Idea Man, Peter told him.  
  
Yeah, but James is the Work-Everthing-Out-Detail-By-Meticulous-Detail Man! Sirius protested.  
  
Margaret shook her head. Well, he's off snogging Birthday Girl in the Charms Classroom, I'm sure, so I'll have to step in for Detail Man. All heads turned to her expectantly. Well, okay... we'll need someone to smuggle food up here from the kitchens — I mean, since it's to be a party...  
  
We can do that, Sirius said.  
  
Arabella regarded him with a well, duh sort of look. After all, you have been since second year — Meg and I certainly aren't about to start smuggling food instead.  
  
And decorations. We'll have to have, I don't know, streamers or coloured lights or something. Margaret continued.  
  
You and Remus do that — you're the best at charms, Peter interjected.  
  
And music — does anyone here have a wireless? Margaret resumed after a nod to Peter.  
  
Pete does, don't you, Pete? Arabella volunteered.  
  
Birthday present from Gran in May — spoils me, that woman does; not that I'm complaining...  
  
And that leaves presents, which I assume will be handled on an individual basis? Margaret concluded.  
  
And James will, I presume, detain Lily after supper Thursday. added Remus. It was Saturday: the second of September.  
  
Of course.  
  
Then that's that, said Arabella with a grin. I'm sure you boys have some scheme or other to concoct, and Meg and I still haven't finished catching up — she seized Margaret's hand and began tugging her up to the girls' dormitories.  
  
So much gossiping to do, Margaret agreed with a wry smile. She didn't particularly enjoy gossip, and made that well-known.  
  
You _will_ tell me if there's something interesting about me, won't you? I hate not knowing about my life — especially after that business with Amy O'Flaherty — ! Sirius called after them. His elaborately fabricated romance with Amanda O'Flaherty, a Hufflepuff, had been conducted entirely without his knowledge, and had given Severus Snape altogether too much insult material — so much that for a while he'd abandoned the usual sufferers of his torment (Peter and Remus) for Sirius — that is, until Sirius hung him from the ceiling of the Great Hall in the middle of the night.  
  
Of course, luv! Arabella called back over her shoulder. Remus studiously watched the fire until she was around the corner and out of sight. Sirius smirked.  
  
Remus was contemplating the crescent moon from the window of the dormitory. It was a beautiful thing to behold for so many people, especially those of the romantic, poetic persuasion. And yet he, the most romantic, poetic of them all, was cursed to live his life hating, fearing the moon. It was cruelly ironic.  
  
Peter snorted in his sleep and rolled over, then continued to snore.  
  
You've got it bad, Moony. Sirius's voice rang clearly in the cool air coming in the window. He moved to Remus's side and sat in the patch of starlight that the other boy yielded to him.  
  
Arabella? I know. I can't help it, though. He sensed Sirius's icy blue eyes probing his face, but kept his gaze trained on the sky. Remus pointed. Your namesake.  
  
Sirius glanced idly up at the Dog Star. I could help you, you know. He was now watching Remus's deft, slender hands as they lay on the stone floor. He would have much preferred looking at Remus's eyes.  
  
They were expressive eyes, but what fascinated him was the way their colour changed with the phases of the moon. At the new moon, for perhaps a day, they were a very clear grey; Sirius imagined that this was the colour of Remus's eyes before he had been bitten. They began to take on a greenish cast with the waxing crescent, and were fully hazel by the first quarter. By the waxing gibbous, the hazel had begun to lighten, and had become amber by the full. And when he was a wolf, they were an intelligent, canine yellow. After the full moon, his eyes seemed flatter, somehow, for they had lost the red tinge of blood lust that Sirius somehow never seemed to notice during the waxing fortnight. He always noticed its absence, however, when the moon was on the wane and his friend was weak and exhausted.  
  
Remus didn't answer Sirius. He simply stared out at the moon, his arms wrapped around his legs and his knees pulled to his chin. Sirius finally stood and crossed to his bed.  
  
Cripes, Moony, I don't know how you can get such high marks on so little sleep, he remarked, and pulled the blood red hangings closed.  
  
The werewolf seemed not to have heard. He sat unmoving, watching the night pass.  
  
He would not answer Sirius for a long time.  
  
That Monday was the first day of classes, and the sixth-year Gryffindors were understandably horrified to find that their first subject Monday mornings was to be Double Potions with the Slytherins. They were, if possible, even more distraught when they discovered that it was also to be their send off on Friday afternoons. The only one of them not too displeased was Arabella, as she was seeing Severus Snape.  
  
Remus had his own reasons for disliking Potions — he was fairly competent, but some of the ingredients smelled so foul to his heightened senses that it was nauseating, and as a werewolf, he had claustrophobic tendencies that the Potions dungeon always roused. And Professor Brindle really didn't like him — or any other Gryffindor.  
  
Professor Brindle was the Potions Master and head of Slytherin House, and he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in baiting Gryffindors. He was ancient, and would probably retire in a few years. Brindle was short and thin and bald with bushy black eyebrows, and wore a perpetual frown. His classroom was kept immaculately neat and clean, though quite cold and damp, and Brindle had developed a phlegmmy-sounding cough over the many years he had been teaching. His best student in any year was easily Severus Snape, though he was by no means Brindle's favourite — the professor discouraged inter-house fraternization in general, and with Gryffindors in particular, and frowned fiercely upon Snape's relationship with Arabella (Brindle had discovered them snogging in the dungeons more than once).  
  
Brindle was waiting for them when they crept into the classroom, and smiled unpleasantly when the bell chimed, signaling that they were his.  
  
If you will all remain standing — I will now place you into pairs. This ritual had marked the beginning of the term in Potions for the last five years. Brindle took especial care to pair the most hostile Slytherins with Gryffindors — though he did not believe in cooperation, he certainly promoted the legendary rivalry between the houses and made sure his pairs weren't about to get along. Brindle had learned very quickly, as a Potions Master ought, which combinations were most volatile. However, the sixth year Slytherin class was quite a bit larger than the sixth year Gryffindor class, and there weren't nearly enough Gryffindors to go around. Remus had the unbelievable bad luck to be paired with Snape (this hadn't occurred since first year, before Sirius and James had conspired to make Snape's cauldron explode in the middle of class, and Sirius and Snape had had to be pulled off of each other, fists swinging). Sirius and James had the misfortune to be paired with resident Really Thick Guys, Victor Crabbe and Gordon Goyle, while Peter was stuck with cunning Lysander Bulstrode. Lily was glaring reproachfully at Alec Parkinson; and Arabella (and Snape) seethed at Taylor Zabini, who had snapped her bra. Margaret was looking mutinous as she approached a table with simpering Helena Strewick.  
  
The other Slytherins were paired with members of their own House, due to the lack of Gryffindors, but were hardly more likely to get along — the highly ambitious nature of Slytherins was also quite fractious, and made for ruthless competition. Sneers, snarls, and smirks were exchanged freely across the dungeon, and the Gryffindors sent each other looks of sympathy.  
  
Brindle cleared his throat. Who can tell me what the Regeris Potion does? he mused, without preamble. They had all learned that he did not want students to volunteer answers, much preferring to call on people at random and put them on the spot. And call he did.   
  
Lily's eyes widened, and she cast her mind back to her Potions text. It — that is to say, the person who takes it has authority over those around him for a short amount of time. They will be — compelled to do his bidding, but it only works with direct orders or requests.  
  
And the main ingredient? Lochley!  
  
Eliza Lochley blanched, but Remus could not bring himself to feel too sorry for her. While a Slytherin who was terrible in Potions was atypical, she was still as malicious as the rest. Er — er — boomslang skin? she guessed helplessly.  
  
Brindle looked scornful. Hardly. Avery!  
  
Essence of mistletoe, Professor, Drucilla Avery answered smoothly. She flipped her dark hair and glanced at Snape, who was still busy glaring at Zabini.  
  
Another primary ingredient — Potter!  
  
James seemed to panic slightly and glance at Lily. A — aconite? he said after a moment. Remus flinched.  
  
Brindle narrowed his eyes. Also known as?  
  
Monkshood and wolfsbane, James answered dutifully. The implications of this seemed to strike him then, and he shot another panicky look at Sirius and Peter, avoiding Remus's gaze.  
  
Which can be replaced, if need be, with — ? Snape!  
  
Snape had been watching James answer with great interest. Dogwood, sir, he answered, but it can be unpredictable, causing the effectiveness to be erratic, or the duration to decrease.  
  
Brindle's lips thinned. Five points for doing your research, Snape. Today you will all brew the Regeris Potion using dogwood, as it would be quite elementary with aconite; anyone who compensates correctly for the drawbacks will receive ten points. Regeris works for a very short time indeed, but requires several days' simmering. It should be finished by Friday and we will test it then.  
  
Remus somehow managed to conceal the profound relief he felt at the knowledge that there would be no aconite used, but it showed plainly on the faces of his friends. James glanced meaningfully at him, and picked up his quill — writing a note, Remus was sure. James usually did in Potions (perhaps the reason it was his worst subject?), and Brindle caught him twice weekly, but had given up on punishment. It never occurred to James to stop; he merely enchanted the parchment to only the proper recipient could read it, so Brindle had no evidence to hold against him.  
  
Snape had been doing haphazard calculations across the table, filling scrap parchment with numbers and half-formed thoughts in his cramped, upright hand. Remus glanced disinterestedly at the parchment, then opened his textbook to the appropriate page and began to study the ingredients and method. He preferred to work the bulk of a problem out inside his mind; it annoyed his arithmetic teachers to no end when he was younger, and even now at the Muggle summer school his parents insisted he attend. He was not taking Arithmancy, but imagined that the professor would have similar qualms about showing work.  
  
A loud explosion jolted the class from whatever thoughts (or lack thereof) they might have been entertaining, and there was smoke rising from the vicinity of a very singed Victor Crabbe. Sirius, on the other side of the workbench, was trying to look shocked (and hold in his laughter). Crabbe apparently had not been up to contemplating dogwood and Sirius had taken advantage of his distraction to do — something. Remus was quite sure he would hear about it soon enough.  
  
Crabbe was still looking disoriented, and very soon several students had dissolved in giggles. Snape was glaring alternately at Sirius, the cause of the distraction, and Remus, because he was the nearest Gryffindor and guilty by association. Brindle gave Sirius a detention for that evening and took ten points from Gryffindor, then sent Crabbe off to the infirmary with Goyle to escort him.  
  
After what was positively an eternity, the bell chimed again to signal the end of class, and the sixth years gathered their belongings impatiently. Arabella crossed to the workbench at which Remus and Snape were still sitting, as both of them had held off packing up until class was actually over. She smiled brightly.  
  
Severus, I was wondering if we might have a bit of a chat? Snape did not quite smile, but his entire demeanor softened as he looked at her.  
  
Remus tossed his quill and parchment haphazardly into his bag and stood abruptly. Arabella's eyes flicked to him and she nodded, but her attention was focused once again on Snape before he could return the gesture, and he left as quickly as possible. Sirius was waiting for his friend outside the Potions classroom, and wordlessly forced Remus to unclench his fists.  
  
C'mon, Moony — everyone's already gone.  
  
Remus allowed Sirius to lead him out to the greenhouses while he concentrated on unclenching his jaw.  
  
Arabella dashed up to the amassed students seconds before the class started, and straightened her skirt self-consciously. Lily made certain to frown disapprovingly at her as Professor Sprout, the plump, youngish Herbology teacher, appeared.


	3. Parties and Potions

Chapter 3  
  
Lily let out a shriek of laughter and ducked toward the portrait hole. James! Don't you have Arithmancy work you need to do — instead of tickling me?  
  
There's nothing I would rather be doing, Lily! James crowed in reply, lunging toward her.  
  
_Mandrake nannies_, Lily gasped, and the chortling Fat Lady swung away from the wall. James, please don't! I mean it! She swatted his hands from her sides and twisted away.  
  
shouted the better part of Gryffindor House, springing from hiding places as soon as Lily and James had set foot in the common room.  
  
Lily exclaimed in delight. Somehow, she never remembered the annual Gryffindor start-of-term party that was her birthday until after everyone shouted Of course, it was not just because of her birthday — James and Sirius, and most of the other Gryffindors as well, would use any excuse to have a party.  
  
The party lasted long into the night, though not all the students did. Eventually Lily couldn't control her yawns, and the last of them clomped up to the dorm rooms.  
  
Sirius flopped onto the floor at the foot of his bed. This seems like the perfect time to plan for the full moon — it _is_ in just a week.  
  
We're cutting it a little close, then, Peter commented.  
  
But we have to start the year off with a bang! James exclaimed.  
  
Right. Bang. Remus yawned, and gathered himself to his feet. I'm sorry, but I think I ought to sit this brain dump out — the floor isn't exactly the most comfy place to fall asleep, and that's what I'm about to do.  
  
But Moony! Sirius cried, looking scandalized. You're the key part of the adventures! You're the alpha wolf! You can't sit it out!  
  
But Remus was already curled in his bed and quite asleep.  
  
Peter frowned. Has he seemed a bit off-colour lately?  
  
You mean more than usual? James smirked. Remus usually became a bit unpredictable as the full moon drew near and the wolf's mind grew stronger.  
  
Actually, he has, Sirius said thoughtfully.  
  
I wonder why? He doesn't have school problems, he doesn't have girl problems, he doesn't have roommate problems, and in five years he's never really been ill. Peter studied the drawn hangings around the werewolf's bed and tapped a fingernail against his teeth. _I'm sure he has loads of problems,_ Sirius thought. _He just doesn't let anyone know._  
  
James shrugged. Well, there are first times for everything. Maybe he's just tired. We _do _need to start planning, though, with or without Moony.  
  
Sirius looked like he still had misgivings, but after a moment he rummaged in Remus's trunk and pulled out a parchment.  
  
James grinned and pulled out his wand. _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,_ he intoned, placing the tip of his wand at the center of the parchment. Lines traced themselves across the paper.  
  
The Marauder's Map.  
  
It had been their project for the better part of the previous year; they had elected for Remus to be its keeper during school, because he was least likely to get searched — the teachers all adored him, except for Brindle who did not adore anyone. Remus was also the best with a quill and had drawn the painstakingly accurate map, while James and Sirius devised the enchantments and snuck about under the Invisibility Cloak, and Pete had infiltrated the staff wing and the other Houses as a rat. The three friends all leaned over the map.  
  
I was thinking maybe we ought to take it easy and have a little romp in the forest this month, get Moony accustomed to having a pack again —  
  
Prongs, you know you're a beta at the full — the wolf will do what he wants, nothing a stag can do to stop him —  
  
It's the first moon of the year, d'you think Pomfrey or Dumbledore will be checking on him?  
  
How about this glade here —?  
  
That lake there is —  
  
If we ever get caught, we're so —  
  
Remus, however, heard none of this; he had taught himself a soundproofing charm first year cast it around his bed at school because Peter snored, and James tossed and turned and made the bed creak. The charm also kept the others from hearing him have nightmares about the night he was bitten. Somehow he suppressed that memory while he was conscious, but it tortured him in his sleep, though he couldn't remember it for the life of him after he woke.  
  
The charm was dependent on the hangings being closed, so he kept his alarm clock beneath his pillow instead of on the bedside table. It told not only the time, but the phase of the moon (as though he might forget) and occasionally carried messages such as Rise and shine, lazybones!, Unfashionably late, and Go to sleep, Remus, whatever you're doing isn't _that_ important. It had been given to him by his mother, who fretted about him constantly. She always felt terrible that her health prevented her from doing normal mother-son things with him when he was at home, and worried terribly (his father informed him) when he was away, especially at full moons. At the moment, the clock read, Sleep tight, pup, as Remus drifted into dreams of scents and fur and night air.  
  
At breakfast, yawns abounded at the Gryffindor table. Oh, last night was so much fun! Lily enthused. Thank you so much, all of you...  
  
It was — James yawned hugely, neglecting to cover his mouth — no problem, Lily. There were nods of agreement all around.  
  
But still, insisted Lily, it was lovely. She kissed James on the cheek.  
  
Ooh, do we get kisses as well? asked Sirius hopefully.  
  
(I'll pass — Margaret interjected hastily.)  
  
I should think not, James snorted. You only get a kiss if you're her boyfriend, which you most certainly are not, Sirius. The taller boy looked crestfallen.  
  
I'm sorry, Sirius, but you know him — he gets terribly jealous, Lily murmured, patting his hand in a motherly fashion.  
  
Especially when you and Remus revise for exams together, Margaret commented, recalling the preparation for O.W.L.s the previous year.  
  
For _hours_ on end, added Peter.  
  
Well, if any of you bothered to study — Lily began. O.W.L.'s were a rather sore subject still.  
  
I study! Margaret exclaimed.  
  
Yeah — with your Ravenclaw bookworm. Arabella snorted, though she was guilty of studying' with Snape quite often.  
  
What're you doing faffing about with him anyway? He's a —  
  
— Nice guy, Margaret finished loudly, glaring at Sirius out of deep brown eyes.  
  
He shrugged back. If you say so, Meg.  
  
Oy, Remus, you all right? Peter asked, poking him in the ribs. Remus started and glanced up from his toast inquiringly. You looked like History of Magic — didn't you sleep well?  
  
I did, answered Remus uncertainly, but I didn't wake very well.  
  
I don't think you've woken at all yet, Sirius informed him; he flitted between conversations like a hummingbird between flowers, or a dog between Frisbees.  
  
And you didn't even stay up with us last night! James commented, spearing more toast with his fork.  
  
What were you boys doing last night? asked Arabella. Having another _orgy_? She smirked evilly at James, who spluttered and turned red. I think your boyfriend needs a tune-up, Lily.  
  
Lily smiled. He was fine last night. Perhaps it was their little post-party orgy that's thrown him off. James, who had recovered somewhat, now choked on his toast, much to everyone's amusement. Sirius pounded on his back and James coughed the toast into his napkin, looking reproachfully at Lily as though she had betrayed him.  
  
Their first class that day was History of Magic with Professor Binns and the Ravenclaws, and every single Gryffindor fell asleep. Remus managed to keep himself awake for the first half of the class by taking notes, but eventually that failed, as it always did (he had five years' worth of notes on the first halves of Binns's lectures) and he dropped off, much to the dismay of the prim Ravenclaw girl who sat in the next desk over, and always ended up blots of ink from Remus's quill on the left sleeve of her robe; apparently, when he sprawled across his desk, his right hand landed right at her elbow. She was also in his Ancient Runes class, and liked him far better when he was awake and not drawing on her clothing.  
  
After History of Magic came Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by Lester Wilkes to the younger students and Amanita Sontuoso to the fifth year students and older. They were a retired Auror team, and both were very intense teachers; the Gryffindors supposed that it was a good thing they had napped in Binns's class, as they were more recovered from their late night and better able to withstand Professor Sontuoso's very hands-on methods.  
  
Lunchtime saw a group of rather sore Gryffindors emerge from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and trudge downstairs (or, in Sirius's case, slide down the banister).  
  
Sometimes I think that woman is madder than Professor Kettleburn, Peter remarked. Kettleburn taught Care of Magical Creatures, and was indeed rather insane: he was missing an arm, two fingers, and wore an eye patch over a disfigured socket, and still he cooed at hippogriffs and got starry-eyed over dragons — and he had nicknamed the giant squid in the lake and spoke to it every morning. He was a brilliant and beloved teacher, though, and they always went eagerly to his lessons.  
  
After lunch, they took a few moments to steel themselves before venturing into the Potions Dungeon. Today they would be testing the Regeris Potion they had begun to brew on Monday. For the first time, Remus was quite glad to be paired with Snape, as each student's potion would be administered to his or her partner; the boy was an insufferable git, but he knew Potions, and wouldn't mess this up. There would be no unforeseen side effects of Snape's brew. However, Remus was also nervous about Potions — eventually, they would have to use aconite in something. Brindle could not keep making exceptions for him. What then? A teaspoon of it could kill him.  
  
Happily, the experiment with the Regeris Potion went well enough. The sensation, Remus decided, was quite unlike being under the Imperius Curse, which he had experienced with Sontuoso the previous year. Regeris actually made him desire immensely to shine Snape's shoes; it was nothing like the drifting, dreaming feeling of Imperius.  
  
Most of the Slytherins were rather uncreative, and had their partners clucking, barking, braying, and crawling around on all fours (when their potions had any effect at all), but others were considerably nastier. Arabella was made to French kiss pug-faced Alec Parkinson (Remus was quite sure from Snape's livid expression that there would be hell to pay in the Slytherin dorms that night), and Margaret slapped Lily and called her a puke-faced whore. Poor Peter had to hop in circles on one foot with his finger on his nose and his tongue on his elbow, which he couldn't quite achieve. Sirius and James wouldn't say what they would have been made to do (probably something like mooning the entire classroom), except Crabbe and Goyle were tremendously stupid and their draughts had no effect whatsoever. Professor Brindle seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, observing the humiliation of his students with something approximating a horrible smile stretching his mouth open and revealing yellowing teeth.  
  
The Gryffindors, however, gave as good as they got. Crabbe and Goyle first danced a tango, then seized Brindle by the arms and did a kick line, finishing by kissing Brindle on the cheek (Brindle glared daggers at James and Sirius, who were collapsing with laughter). Alec Parkinson got partway through a striptease (nothing indecent) before the effects of the potion wore off; Helena Strewick repeated, For a good time, owl Lucius Malfoy, at the top of her voice (graffiti in one of the girls' toilets); Taylor Zabini begged James for sex (Arabella was, once again, trying to embarrass the Prefect). Peter's potion, predictably, had no effect on Lysander Bulstrode.  
  
And Remus certainly took advantage of his dominion over Snape. By the time the draught wore off, the Slytherin had snogged Drucilla Avery (Arabella pursed her lips in annoyance), conjured a beach ball and balanced it on the tip of his prominent, beaky nose while singing the soprano line of the _Kyrie_ from the Mozart Requiem, and informed the class that he was a smarmy git who never washed his hair.  
  
After all this new mayhem, Professor Brindle was quite vexed; he assigned an essay (On Interchanging Aconite and Dogwood) and shooed them out of the classroom early. The sixth year Gryffindors went their separate ways — Lily and Margaret to the library, Arabella off somewhere secluded with Snape, and the boys up to Gryffindor tower to continue planning.


	4. In which the moon is full

Chapter 4  
  
Sirius and Remus were seated on the round rug in the dorm room, facing each other across the Map. Peter and James were sleeping already, but the other two boys were kept awake by insistent anticipation. Sirius's fingers were worrying the lush burgundy rug with barely restrained excitement, but Remus was staring at the map with apprehension. He reviewed the plan in his mind, determined not to let the wolf stray too far and ruin the adventure they had planned.  
  
_Into the forest. Skirt the woods behind Hagrid's cabin_ (he wondered in the back of his mind why they had not yet been to visit the groundskeeper)_, go to the forest lake and have a swim. Romp in the nearby meadow. Have a quick run through the village, perhaps, if there's time, just to shake things up a little, and back to the Shack via the Willow just before dawn,_ he thought, purposely ignoring the nagging feeling of guilt. There was nothing to worry about; his friends would not let him do anything bad. Of course not. It was unthinkable. (A small voice he might have recognized as his conscience kept insisting that he was being irresponsible, and betraying Dumbledore's trust, and was a bit of a lark once a month really worth risking expulsion or someone's life? But he pushed that away irritably and drowned it in the warm glow of his friends.)  
  
You should sleep, Remus, Sirius said, suddenly and without preamble. You'll be irritable tomorrow, and dead tired the day after.  
  
I'm always dead tired the day after. It takes a lot out of one.  
  
It'll be even worse if you don't sleep tonight. The beta certainly had nerve.  
  
I can't sleep right now. Remus stood and crossed to the window.  
  
  
  
he lied. The moon was full — or, rather, it looked full. It wasn't yet, not quite. Tomorrow night, that would be the night.  
  
How're you feeling? Sirius came to stand beside him.  
  
Out of sorts. Strangely aggressive. Moody. The usual.  
  
But it had not been the usual, not entirely. The wolf had been rather subdued the last several months, but now, during the last two weeks, it had been a more dramatic waxing fortnight than any he could recall. The wolf hovered near the fore of his mind, ready to seize power the moment Remus dropped his guard, nearly overwhelming him with its primal instincts. The presence of the wolf piqued his already heightened senses, as well, and he was fighting lingering arousal from sitting by Arabella at dinner. She moved with a careless delicacy when she ate, and had grazed him with her hand and arm several times throughout the meal. When she brushed her hair off her shoulder, he was blissfully surrounded by her scent. It had been torturous and Remus was growing tired of fighting the wolf. If it was this bad already, how would he be tomorrow? It was always hardest for him to keep the wolf in check the day of the full, and after dark any semblance of control was lost to the pull of the moon.  
  
Sirius's touch was tentative and feather-light on his wrist. He started, and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Remus, are you sure you're all right? Nervy beta.  
  
Shaking his head had, if anything, fogged it more. Why do you ask?  
  
Because I've asked you five times right now if it was really the usual, and you've only just heard. Sirius took him by the shoulders and turned him away from the window and the looming moon. Look at me, Re.  
  
I'm fine.  
  
Sirius forced his chin upwards. Look me in the face and say that, Remus.  
  
He tried to harden his gaze and tell Sirius to bugger off, but couldn't. Instead, he pulled away from the taller boy and wrapped his arms around himself, shutting his eyes and dropping his chin to his chest. The wolf seemed to be gnawing steadily on his humanity.  
  
He could sense Sirius standing awkwardly in his grey Muggle tee-shirt and Hogwarts standard-issue blue and white striped flannel pants. He would have a bewildered look on his face, not even a hint of his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth — he never knew quite what to do with himself when his friends were upset. His hands would be hovering half-outstretched in hesitation. Remus had observed this posture numerous times on his worse days, and on James's, and even Peter's (though _he_ preferred to spill his troubles to the girls).  
  
he said softly, and Remus looked up. Sirius had taken an unprecedented step closer, and now let his hands come to rest on Remus's shoulders.  
  
You're right, he said shortly, standing and pulling away once again. Sirius tried to restrain him, but the strength of a werewolf is not easily matched. I should sleep.  
  
No, Re, tell me what's the matter — But Remus had vanished behind the hangings of his bed.  
  
After a little while, Sirius sat down on his own bed and stared out at the moon, huge and white and shining. It was so beautiful; even as it tormented his good, kind, caring friend, it was beautiful. Did Remus think it was beautiful? No, of course he wouldn't — to Remus, it was a hateful, inevitable, inexorable curse, one that turned him into a monster monthly and made him less than human, even less than honorable beasts. The moon turned Remus into a Dark Creature and he hated it with every fibre of his being.  
  
Sirius stared at the moon.  
  
Remus awoke with a shout. The sun shone through the scarlet hangings, giving his bed a warm, ruby glow. It was six o'clock — this he knew from his alarm clock (Good morning, Master Sluggard the wolf was telling him that he ought to be out hunting, it wanted blood. He whined softly into his pillow. He couldn't recall what he had dreamed, but he knew exactly what it had been about.  
  
He had been bitten on an August moon. What he had been doing out-of-doors at night when he was three, he had no idea whatsoever. He was told that he had been found just inside the forest, sobbing and bleeding, at dawn; he had been missing since dusk. They never caught the wolf that had bitten him, though not for lack of trying. For a year, his father went out hunting at the full moon while his mother fearfully watched her son become a wolf pup. They locked him in the cellar, with cushioning charms on the walls and floor.  
  
Remus remembered none of this. He knew only what had been told him, until he was five. By then, they had left the village (he still didn't know what village) to travel in search of a cure. Peter, who seemed to him perversely interested in such things, told him authoritatively that he had repressed those memories, and that he would be unsurprised if the memories manifested themselves in dreams. He had never told them about the nightmares. Why should he bother anyone with them if he couldn't even remember them himself?  
  
He dragged himself laboriously from out his bed and stood over a sink in the adjoining restroom, staring into his reflection's haunted amber eyes for some time. The morning sounds of his roommates brought him back to himself, and he stepped into a shower. He stepped out again, and into a towel, not long after, and realised he had forgotten his clothes, so he ventured out into the dormitory. The other three chorused a Hi, Moony! as he rummaged for clean clothes, then discovered that they were laid out on his chair. He didn't realise how long Sirius's eyes lingered on the tooth and claw marks that scarred the skin of his back. And arms. And legs. And chest.  
  
Sirius knew it was morbid, but the scars fascinated him. (James and Peter made a point of ignoring them.) He wondered why they were virtually nonexistent on Remus's hands and face. He vowed to look closer at the next discreet opportunity. He wondered why there were scars at all — weren't werewolves supposed to heal quickly? He wondered whether the scars were a part of the curse, and whether there were scars anywhere else, then mentally slapped himself and turned his attention to his own shoelaces.  
  
Remus had disappeared halfway through breakfast, and now he peered shyly into the Transfiguration classroom. Professor Minerva McGonagall fixed him with a cool, even stare as he ducked toward his desk.  
  
Lupin. You are aware that this class began seven minutes ago, are you not?  
  
As Remus sat down next to Peter, Sirius could see his jaw clench. Yes, Professor.  
  
McGonagall seemed about to pursue this line of questioning, but her eyes flicked to the window, and she reconsidered. Sirius supposed that it had been a reflex of considering the phase of the moon; James did the same thing.  
  
I'd like to speak with you after class, Lupin.  
  
Of course, Professor. It took a great deal of concentration for Remus to keep from grinding his teeth. This was the first time he had been late to a class, ever, and it bothered him immensely. The wolf had decided, midway through breakfast, that rabbit was more appetizing than Remus' customary toast, and Remus had found himself entering the Forbidden Forest before he regained control entirely. He had then sequestered himself in Gryffindor tower until he felt he had control of the wolf again. And now here he was in Transfiguration, fighting the wolf. It was worse than usual; definitely not his imagination.  
  
Remus tried to pay attention to how to transfigure higher mammals safely, he really did — but the wolf in his mind was running through the forest, chasing mid-sized rodents and being generally distracting. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the blackboards, or his uncharacteristically blank parchment. His eyes were more yellow than they had been at breakfast, Sirius noticed with some alarm, and halfway through the lesson Remus rummaged in his bag and emerged with his reading glasses. A wolf's eyes weren't well-adapted for reading, as they tended to favor depth and motion over flat shapes, but he liked to suppose that Remus probably would have had to read with glasses anyway. The glasses were a great deal more stylish than James's, though the Prefect was loath to admit it: the gold wire frames, roughly elliptical in shape, had class that his own squarish black plastic frames lacked. Sirius, though he teased Remus horribly, privately thought that Remus looked scholarly in them, even when he was pencil-smudged and disheveled from late nights working on the Map last year. He knew for a fact that some of the girls who frequented the library found them very attractive (Sirius, who far outstripped Remus in female followings any day, was not threatened by this knowledge), though none of that mattered to Remus because none of those girls was Arabella Figg.  
  
Transfiguration passed without incident, save for when Peter knocked over a jar of jewel-like scarabs meant for the second-years with his elbow and all the girls yelped in surprise as the beetles buzzed around the room. McGonagall looked at him very coldly as she Summoned the scarabs back to the repaired jar, and took five points from Gryffindor for his carelessness. Afterwards, the Gryffindors parted ways to attend their various elective classes, and Remus hung back to speak to Professor McGonagall.  
  
she began, then hesitated. How should she put this? The boy always tried to be self-sufficient, and refused all offers of assistance from the staff. He even seemed to put off their concern, as though he had something to prove, and couldn't with them looking after him. At the moment, he was staring down at his shoelaces, not in a manner bashful or ashamed, but exhausted, impatient, and apathetic.  
  
she repeated after a moment, I do hope that you will notify Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, or myself if something is amiss. It is quite unlike you to be tardy, and if there is anything of concern, we must be aware of it. She chastised herself silently. That wasn't at all what she really meant to convey; this sort of speech rolled off of him like water off a duck's back.  
  
He nodded without looking up. If there's anything I can't handle, I'll be sure to come to you, he said sullenly. It sounded rehearsed. She tried vainly to see his eyes, but his light brown hair fell across her line of vision.  
  
That is good to hear, Lupin. Do you have enough time to get to your next class, or shall I write you a note? Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together. There had to be some way to impress upon him the importance of keeping them informed. The young werewolf worried and frustrated her.  
  
I'll be all right. It isn't far. he muttered.  
  
Well, then. You may go. McGonagall watched him hoist his bag effortlessly and take long strides out of her classroom. He would, of course, never come to her; not if he could help it, and she knew it.  
  
Remus fumbled through Ancient Runes (the Ravenclaw girl looked rather concerned; he was usually quite her match in the subject) and sat with his head down in Charms while tiny Professor Flitwick explained the theory and dangers of memory-altering charms in a high, squeaky voice that grated on his hearing and enticed the wolf. His friends held hushed discussions of his welfare, but Sirius somehow made convincing excuses for him.  
  
He's not been sleeping well, he hissed to Lily, who looked skeptical. Er — at all, actually, for a week now.  
  
Lily whispered back, shooting another concerned glance toward Remus.  
  
Sirius shrugged. He hasn't said. Lily pursed her lips and sat back in her chair to inform Margaret of this new development. The girls both knew how reticent Remus could be if he was so inclined. When Flitwick excused the class after the bell, Remus shot up out of his seat and fairly fled the classroom.  
  
He doesn't seem sleep-deprived, Margaret muttered. Arabella shrugged.  
  
_Tuba Mirum_, Remus growled at the Fat Lady, and dashed up the stairs to the sixth-year dormitory. He slid down the wall and hugged his knees to his chin. The mind of the wolf was growing ever stronger, and he was so tired of fighting back... he was well aware that the wolf would not subside until the moon began to wane, and that he was ultimately fighting a losing battle; wouldn't it be so much easier just to give in now?  
  
Sirius knocked on the door — he had a distinctive, lazy knock that employed only the knuckles of his index and middle finger. James rapped purposefully on a door with the front of a fisted hand, and Peter tended to tap almost fearfully, or let other people knock, more often than not.  
  
Remus? Can I come in? Sirius called. He was miraculously alone, although the others were probably waiting somewhere, just as concerned as Sirius was. Receiving no no answer from Remus, he pushed the door open. Remus. Are you all right? he asked, though it was quite obvious he wasn't. Remus's muscles tensed visibly, and a growl was rising in his throat. Sirius knelt before his friend and extended his hand tentatively, then let it fall upon Remus's shoulder. A heartbeat passed. Then the wolf lashed out.  
  
In the blink of an eye, Sirius found himself sprawled on his back. Remus's knees were pressing on his ribcage, his left arm and throat were pinned under Remus's hands, and his right wrist was clamped firmly between Remus's teeth. He stared up at his friend with wide eyes. Remus was watching him out of the corner of a wild topaz eye, his mind more wolf than human.  
  
Sirius was motionless as Remus slowly increased the pressure of his teeth on Sirius's wrist. They remained in this awkward position for what seemed like several eternities, and Sirius had time to wonder nervously if he could be Turned by a werewolf's bite if aforementioned werewolf was still a human. (The pain of teeth being slowly embedded in his wrist was excruciating.) He gazed desperately into the werewolf's eyes, searching for the wizard he knew. (He felt he would suffocate if this went on much longer.) There was only the beast.  
  
Then Remus seemed to come back to himself. He looked at Sirius with horror for a moment, then quickly shoved himself off of his friend, who sat up slowly and painfully, gasping and rubbing his wrist. He was relieved to see that the skin was unbroken, but gods, it hurt. He looked up to find Remus crouching on the other side of the room, staring at him with concern and what might have been fear. Sirius tried to smile reassuringly. He held up his hand. Look, I'm fine, Re.  
  
I didn't...?  
  
Break the skin? No. And it was only a _little_ painful to breathe.  
  
Remus still looked anxious, and his breaths came in panicky gasps. When Sirius stood and strode toward him, he scuttled backwards and curled up against the wall. he shouted. Sirius stopped. he repeated, softer, come any closer.  
  
Remus, I just want to help you, make sure you're all right.  
  
Obviously, I'm not. Remus answered bitterly.  
  
It's worse, isn't it? You've never been this bad before. He didn't answer. Do you know why?  
  
Just — go away, Sirius, before I lose control again.  
  
I could take you to the Infirmary —  
  
Please, Sirius, it's already so hard for me. Just go. The defeat in Remus's voice hardened Sirius's resolve.  
  
What do you plan to do, then? Stay up here all afternoon and hide? The Moony I know doesn't hide. He sat down where he was and stared at his friend.  
  
Maybe he does, and you've just never seen. Remus muttered, dropping his chin to his chest.  
  
Maybe he's obstinate and won't let his friends help him when he needs them.  
  
Maybe they couldn't help anything, anyway! Did you ever think of that? Maybe this isn't something you can be a part of, Sirius. Maybe I'm better off alone. Maybe you're better off without me.  
  
The words stung Sirius like a slap to the face, and he resolutely held his ground, settling his weight into the floor. Remus refused to look at him or acknowledge him in any way, so he settled for looking at Remus. He'd always seemed a bit too thin, as though he didn't get enough to eat, and five years of generous Hogwarts portions had not changed that. He was tall, though not as tall as Sirius, and long-limbed, though now those limbs were coiled clumsily about him — but Remus moved with a preternatural lupine grace. His dusty brown hair hung over his eyes like a curtain, keeping Sirius out and the wolf in. It pained Sirius to watch his friend suffer, and to be able to do nothing at all.  
  
Remus raised his head and regarded Sirius with a gaze devoid of emotion, but full of blood lust. It was all the wolf knew — but it recognized Sirius as, somehow, part of its pack, and for the moment it would allow Remus to be in control. In a calm, steady voice he said, Sirius, please go. There's nothing you can do. I appreciate the thought, but it would be much easier for me if you left.  
  
Sirius stared at his friend for a few seconds more, then stood abruptly and left. Remus watched the door for many minutes after is swung shut, but no one came, and in his head he struggled with the ever-stronger wolf for dominance.  
  
Remus skipped his afternoon classes. Guilt plagued him briefly, but he felt better with the knowledge that he couldn't hurt anyone if he was alone. Mostly, he sat in the dormitory, unmoving — this for almost an hour at a time, then a slight shift and stretch, and more stillness. The imposed tranquility aggravated the already restless wolf, but it gave Remus time to gather all his reserves of strength and willpower to himself in preparation. Sometime before the last class of the day ended, Remus fished the Map out of his trunk and went over their planned romp several more times. The prospect of it bothered him a little, and the waiting made him nervous.  
  
Sirius must have warned the others off, for no one approached the dormitory. Remus stayed there, alone, until dinner, when he stood abruptly and strode out of the castle with purpose. He shot a furtive glance at the sun, which hung, enormous and red, over the western skyline, as he crossed the grounds to the Whomping Willow. It began to flail threateningly at his approach, but he stood calmly, just out of its reach, until he located a long stick. With it, he prodded the knot that froze the tree, then ducked into the tunnel at its base just before the tree started to move again. Inside the tunnel, Remus stood for a moment and listened. The Willow's rustlings and creakings sounded a bit confused, exactly as he remembered. It was good to know that some things didn't change. The first time he had ever been in this tunnel, in his first year, Dumbledore had been with him, and had chuckled softly at the tree's confusion.  
  
He set off down the tunnel. It was one of the longer ones, and by the time he reached the shack, he supposed that the sun was nearly finished setting. The others would be along a little after curfew, but he would be alone during the transformation. Remus stripped and settled himself cross-legged on the floor to await the Change, studiously ignoring the gnawed and splintered remains of furniture.  
  
He felt it overtake him a moment before it started; there was a peculiar sense of _awareness_, and he was omniscient and omnipresent, and one with the wolf, but it lasted only a moment, and then it had begun. The pain was excruciating as his bones reformed and rearranged themselves, contorting his muscles and limbs. The rest of his body altered to conform to this new shape, changing subtly from a human form to a wolf form. His screams became howls as his jaw elongated and the features that allowed human speech vanished. His senses sharpened further and snapped into detailed focus. Brown and grey fur rippled over his skin. It was a slow change this month, the last human vestige of his mind reflected.  
  
A moment later, the wolf stood up and began to pace the shack. It grabbed a table leg in its bone-crushing jaws and, snarling, flung it against the wall. There was a loud CRACK! as the impact split the wood. The wolf was large, sleek, majestic, and impatient. The blood lust grew stronger with each passing minute, and the wolf snapped at phantoms as it paced. Its path led it into a patch of moonlight, which filled it with a fell energy. It loosed a chilling howl into the night. In the village, children crept fearfully into their parents' arms and cried.  
  
The wolf soon tired of pacing and destroying furniture parts. It wanted blood — any blood would do. The sensation of jaws sinking into flesh, of warm, sticky blood flowing down its throat: this only would please the wolf, but never sate it. Enraged by the blood lust, the wolf twisted and bit its own side sharply. The blood flowed freely, and the wolf lapped it up. It gnawed on its foreleg and nipped at its flanks, to savor the taste of more blood. This only drove the blood lust to ever-mounting levels, but the wolf could not stop.  
  
By the time the others arrived, the wolf was covered in a plethora of bites and scratches, and they were taken aback; blood shone at them in the moonlight from fur and wood. The wolf, however, was crouched and snarling, perceiving them as interlopers, or, more likely, prey. It seemed to need reminding that they were its pack.  
  
Padfoot whined submissively, creeping toward the hostile wolf on his belly. Now, it seemed to recognize him, or at least the subordinate posture, and calmed slightly. Padfoot was entirely horrified by the injuries the wolf had inflicted upon itself, and when it finally sat, accepting him regally, he began to lick some of the more gruesome wounds. Prongs, with Wormtail perched between his antlers, was still nervous, as the wolf was eying him, but the worst seemed to have passed, and the Moony they adventured with was returning. After patiently enduring Padfoot's mothering for several minutes, the wolf rose calmly and sniffed at Prongs's legs. (Wormtail was quivering with fear, and Prongs found it most distracting.) After circling him once, Padfoot tensed to tackle the wolf all the while should it suddenly spring, the wolf lifted its nose to the stag's and licked his face. Had they been human, there would have been a collective sigh of relief: the menacing wolf had receded into their Moony, who was as friendly as Padfoot, and very clever. Moony retained much of Remus's intelligence and resourcefulness, and was a very lenient alpha wolf (as alphas went), a canine complement to Remus's laid-back personality.  
  
Moony threw back his head and loosed another howl, but it was entirely different from the disturbing howl the wolf had sent into the night earlier. Padfoot yodeled back, as the only one with a suitable voice, and they set off for the night's adventure.


	5. The Morning After

Chapter 5  
  
Remus returned to himself just inside the Hogsmeade end of the tunnel. His friends, still transformed, were looking at him anxiously as he heaved himself to all fours. He had no memory of the night's events, but supposed that he would be filled in on every detail by his friends' play-by-play. He was not troubled overmuch by his raw throat, shaky limbs, or cloudy head: none of this was unusual. He simply knelt and took deep, slow breaths with his eyes tightly shut as he waited for the pounding in his ears to subside. The others looked on in horror as the self-inflicted wounds began to bleed once more from the stress of the Change. As Remus caught his breath, however, his peculiar werewolf magic healed the wounds, leaving behind fresh pink scars, which would fade into the web of old scars. Kneeling before them now was a recovering, newly whole, entirely nude Remus.  
  
Sirius transfigured back into a human and extended a hand to the werewolf. Going to sit there all day starkers? I'd never have pegged you to be one of those counter-culture, nudist sort of people, Moony.  
  
Remus looked up wearily and unabashedly, then grasped Sirius's hand. He overbalanced when the taller boy pulled him to his feet, and stumbled toward the tunnel wall. Sirius caught his shoulder, and Prongs quickly appeared for Remus to steady himself against, but the werewolf had already assessed his own abilities in those few steps. I'm too shaky yet — he rasped, sinking to the ground, and Sirius nodded in a businesslike manner.  
  
Of course you are. Jamie-boy doesn't mind carrying you — do you, James? The stag shook his head in response to Sirius's query. Of course he didn't mind — what were friends for? And Remus was, in truth, not very heavy (unless he happened to be sitting on one's chest and choking off one's air). Remus suddenly found himself being lifted onto Prongs's back by Sirius, who didn't seem to think the werewolf could do anything for himself. After a moment, Remus decided that Sirius was quite right.  
  
Peter had returned to his human form as well. Cor, Moony, what did you do last night that you're so tired now?  
  
I should be asking _you_ that question, replied Remus hoarsely.  
  
Sirius would have liked to ask Remus a few questions himself, but decided that it ought to be when the others were otherwise occupied, as they were unaware of how difficult the wax had been.  
  
Inside the shack, Remus retrieved his clothing and dressed. He was escorted to the Infirmary by his friends (read: half-carried, half-dragged by Sirius), where Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the matron, awaited him. He was given pyjamas and tucked into bed, where he promptly fell asleep while Madam Pomfrey checked him for abnormalities. She set a bar of chocolate and a sleeping draught laced with blood-replenishing potion on his bedside table for when he awoke, and busied herself elsewhere in the Hospital Wing.  
  
The poor thing always seemed so sickly, even when he wasn't recuperating in one of her hospital beds. Poppy always thought him lucky, to have three such friends as James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black — she had known they would be inseparable when the three boys began visiting him in the Hospital Wing in their first year. She was the sole witness to the peculiar tenderness these three boys extended to the werewolf in their midst, and marveled unseen from the door of the apothecary. These four were entirely self-contained, and yet were some of the most friendly students she had ever met.  
  
After breakfast, a refreshed-looking Peter Pettigrew knocked shyly on the doorframe. Good morning, Madam Pomfrey.  
  
What do you need, Pettigrew? asked Poppy, whisking past the door on her way to a shelf.  
  
I — well, I suppose I'm just checking in on Remus. Is he all right?  
  
Poppy smiled to herself. Young Lupin will be fine, just as long as you hooligans let him rest a bit. Now, off with you! she said briskly, and Peter scurried away. Such friends, Poppy mused, were rare indeed.  
  
During lunch, Madam Pomfrey was dismayed to find the whole of the Gryffindor sixth year in her infirmary. They had congregated around Remus Lupin, who looked very small and vulnerable indeed against the starched white linens of the hospital bed. The three girls found this quite endearing and hovered over him protectively, while the boys teased amicably.  
  
Who'd have thought that being frail and sickly would be so attractive? asked Sirius, smirking at the foot of the bed. Remus smiled back weakly, while James took up the thread.  
  
I know! Sometimes I wonder if Lily would pay more attention to me if I were perpetually ill. Would you, Lily? Because I can contract pneumonia or something, he offered. Lily took a moment to swat his arm, then returned to lavishing attention upon Remus.  
  
Nah, that wouldn't work, Jim. It's only so attractive because Remus has some kind of animal magnetism, said Peter, with a completely straight face. I'm in here all the time for potions and jinxes, and these lovely ladies never fawn over me.  
  
Have you ever though that you just aren't as appealing an invalid, Pete? Because I certainly wouldn't fawn over someone who had compound eyes or was covered in boils. Re here just looks tired. Sirius pointed out.  
  
Oh, yes, because the I haven't slept in months' look is so in right now, retorted Peter.  
  
Apparently, Pete, it is, said James, nodding toward the three girls who were ignoring them very deliberately and making small talk with Remus.  
  
Madam Pomfrey swept towards them like a thundercloud, looking somewhat remorseful. I'm sorry, but you'll all have to leave now. You've classes to go to, and Lupin needs to rest. They all protested, but were shooed away; Remus gave a lethargic wave when Sirius looked back, trying not to choke on the chocolate and potions being forced upon him.  
  
Under the combined influence of Madam Pomfrey's sleeping draught and his own exhaustion, Remus slept through the afternoon and on into the evening. He awoke, ravenous, sometime after dinner. Sirius was sitting next to the bed, writing, and he pulled a dinner roll from his pocket.  
  
Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. We thought you might be hungry. At the look on Remus's face, he chuckled. Don't worry, there's more in the dormitory. Even the house-elves like you, Moony, we could barely carry everything they gave us.  
  
Good. I'm famished. said Remus in a voice hoarse from howling and disuse. He tore into the roll while Sirius watched him, amused.  
  
Awake then, are you? observed Madam Pomfrey. She flitted to the bed and waved her wand over Remus once. It glowed briefly, and she nodded, satisfied. Well, Lupin, a full recovery once again. You can go. Just don't over-exert yourself. She fixed Sirius with a stern look and whisked away again, leaving the two boys alone. Remus shooed Sirius away and pulled the curtains to change out of the infirmary pyjamas and into his own clothes, which had been cleaned and folded neatly.  
  
Remus was still tired, and had to lean on Sirius as they returned to Gryffindor Tower. Sirius opened the portrait hole (Dreamers often lie, he quoted. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true, returned the Fat Lady) and they entered the common room. They happened to walk in on a scene that, though not entirely unusual, demanded everyone's attention.  
  
shrieked Arabella. Every head in the common room jerked toward her. She would have laughed at the synchronity of it, had she not been furious. Get that animal OFF MY ESSAY! Mrs. Figg kept cats — hordes of them, her daughter insisted — and Arabella had acquired an unreasonable hatred of all things feline.  
  
began Remus, starting towards her; but no one heard him because Lily had said, far too loudly, Good Lord, Belle, calm down. He's just a cat!  
  
The blue eyes cracked and snapped with barely-restrained violence. And if you don't remove your feline, I will disembowel it and stuff it down your throat.  
  
Lancelot, Lily's black-and-white cat, took a swipe at Arabella for the affront. He disliked the girl as much as she disliked him, and seemed to provoke her intentionally. Lancelot, at Lily's bidding, usually spent most of his time wandering the castle, and slept in the common room so the girls had fewer late-night disputes. As Remus approached the table, however, the cat fled; cats would not tolerate him.  
  
Remus! You're up! exclaimed Lily.  
  
You're all right? asked Arabella, the quarrel quite forgotten as the cat was gone.  
  
Remus gave them a little half-smile.   
  
But he's still exceedingly tired and is to go to bed, interjected Sirius.  
  
Pomfrey's orders? Lily's bright green eyes were twinkling with affection.  
  
Of course, confirmed Sirius.  
  
Which means, of course, that they'll keep poor Remus up half the night, translated Arabella. You're supposed to be his friends, make sure he takes care of himself, would you? She shook her head chastisingly and sat down at the table again to finish her essay. Remus observed closely the flicking of her quill and the exact way she crossed her legs, until his stomach complained loudly of the fact that it had had nothing all day but chocolate and a dinner roll, and Lily giggled.  
  
I hope you plan to feed that boy, she told Sirius. Oh! Remus, you're so adorable when you're mortified.  
  
Sirius stifled his own comments on the indeed very adorable blush spreading across the werewolf's cheeks. Don't worry, we wouldn't starve our ickle Remmiekins, he teased, we only make him earn his keep in sexual favors.  
  
Oh, good, said Lily, half-listening, with an indulgent smile. She waved them toward the stairs as she resumed her own seat and picked up a roll of parchment.  
  
Come along, Moony, said Sirius, ushering the other boy up the stairs. He was privately disturbed at the way his friend looked like he wasn't getting square meals. He knew for a fact that Remus ate as voraciously as he did, if a bit more politely.  
  
Evening, Black, said seventh-year Darryl Collins, Sirius's fellow Beater. Collins nodded to Remus, obviously quite unaware of his name.  
  
replied Sirius as Remus stopped on the fifth landing. The door here was labeled in gold lettering, and was one of the sturdiest doors Sirius had ever encountered. It had survived five years of abuse from the four of them, no small feat when one considered the prodigious strength of a werewolf, even one with superb control over the amount of force he used. Remus had only ever come close to harming the door in their third year, when he slammed it in a Snape-related fury and nearly tore the hinges from the doorframe. The door swung open just as Remus reached out to grasp the knob.  
  
gasped Peter. Remus! We were just about to go see if you'd woke yet, and keep Sirius company.  
  
Well, Pete, get out of the doorway so they can come in, said James from inside the room. I expect Moony's ravenous. He hauled Peter from the doorway and grinned, waving his hand to indicate the generous spread of food awaiting Remus.  
  
I told you the house-elves like you, Moony, muttered Sirius. Tuck in, then.  
  
Remus set to determinedly, though far more tidily than the others would have done. It's cos he's so polite to them, you know, that's why the elves like him, James said pointedly to Sirius, who protested. It wasn't as though Sirius was cruel, just a bit overbearing at times, and many of the house-elves were just a bit wary of him. But then, he was also the one who turned up in the kitchens in the dead of night, demanding spinach-flavoured crackers and salmon mousse, and other similarly odd things that simply baffled the poor house-elves.  
  
Suddenly, Remus paused. The other boys looked at him expectantly. Last night... did I... that is, did everything go well?  
  
James grinned. Of course it did, Moony! It was a blast. Although you got sidetracked a lot, running after squirrels and things.  
  
As it turns out, we never made it out of the forest. Lost track of time swimming and frolicking, so we didn't quite get the bang we would've by doing a quick lap through Hogsmeade, said Sirius, sounding a bit regretful.  
  
But there's no way they could have missed you and Padfoot howling, Peter informed Remus, snagging a bit to nibble on from the impressive platter of food.  
  
It's not just howling, Wormtail, it's bonding through song! said Sirius, and James groaned.  
  
Please, Padfoot, no waxing eloquent about your odd canine things — you're not even really a dog. Sirius thoroughly enjoyed his Animagus form, but James and Peter bored quickly whenever Sirius started in on the intricacies of canine society. Remus found these insights fascinating, as he was only ever at odds with the wolf, and was for the most part unaware of what it really was like to be a wolf, and how it interacted with the others, although he was well aware that the wolf he became was most definitely an Alpha.  
  
It appeared that Sirius had given in while Remus was concentrating on the food, and was pouting reproachfully at James and Peter, so Remus swallowed and asked, Was I... hostile? He selected the description carefully, trying to be diplomatic and hating his utter lack of control over the wolf.  
  
A Look passed between his friends, and then James gave a slight nod. Only a little, at the beginning. You just needed to get used to us again, I think.  
  
Remus wondered with some trepidation what his friends were neglecting to tell him. _It could be awful,_ he thought. _Perhaps I don't want to know. But they shouldn't withhold things about the full moon, especially not potentially harmful things._ Anger was beginning to well up inside him, fed by all the horrors his imagination could produce. _If I am a danger, they need to say something.  
  
But you always have been a danger,_ a deceitful, Slytherin-esque portion of his mind whispered. _You endanger them and everyone within running distance at every full moon. You're a danger to them even now, binding them to your darkness..._  
  
_No!_ he raged back, slamming the vault door on his treacherous thoughts — truthful though they might be.  
  
Did you bulk up over the holiday? asked Sirius, interrupting James's play-by-play recounting of the night just as Padfoot and Moony got into a bit of a tussle at the meadow.  
  
No, why? asked Remus, bewildered.  
  
You were a good deal stronger than I remembered, Moony. I couldn't even pin you down.  
  
That's because you're a mangy mutt, Padfoot, teased Remus, and Peter burst out laughing. The others stared at him strangely, and he blushed.  
  
That was uncalled for, Wormtail — Moony isn't _that_ funny, frowned Sirius.  
  
I think I'm a bit tired, it's making me giddy, mumbled Peter.  
  
Well, I don't see why _you're_ tired, Wormtail, you rode on my head all night, James snorted.  
  
Stop whining, Bambi, I was the one what got my tail kicked by Moony here. Oh, Moony, I wish I could've seen the bruises, they must have been beautiful — stupid fur got in the way.  
  
You're really morbid, Pads, that's what you are, grimaced Peter.  
  
A thoroughly morbid mutt, agreed Remus. An enormous, bear-like mutt, true, but a mutt nonetheless.  
  
Defend me, Bambi, from these heartless cads! cried Sirius, waving his arms about helplessly and laying his head on James's shoulder.  
  
Not if you keep calling me Bambi,' mutt. James shoved Sirius off his shoulder. Now, I believe we were telling Moony what he did last night.  
  
Sirius blinked. Oh. Right.  
  
Peter began to nibble on a Cauldron Cake.  
  
James and Peter were both asleep. Neither of them had ever been a night-owl, as both of their canine compatriots were. They had, however, stayed up far later than usual, regaling Remus with an account of the previous night's adventure while he snacked. Now Remus stared at Sirius across the round rug and empty tray and asked, What weren't you telling me earlier?  
  
Not telling you? What? Sirius frowned.   
  
When I asked if I was, er, hostile. And you all kind of looked at each other before James answered. What was it?  
  
said Sirius, oh, _that_. He fell quiet, contemplating his phrasing. They thought I should tell you this, later.  
  
Tell me what? I didn't hurt anyone, did I? asked Remus apprehensively.  
  
Sirius began slowly, his eyes carefully trained on the floor. Not any of us. When we got there, though, you were kind of a mess, all torn up. There was blood everywhere. I guess the wolf wanted blood so badly, he didn't care whose it was. That it was his own. He looked directly at Remus and saw the incomprehension, the horror, and the revulsion pass across his face, and he saw when his friend's features slammed shut, trapping all the turmoil inside of him — but not before Sirius glimpsed the utter self-loathing.  
  
_I am vile. Despicable. Disgusting. Nothing but a bloodthirsty beast. I shouldn't be here. I don't deserve any of this. I'm a threat to everyone. I don't deserve to live._  
  
Remus, I know what you're thinking, and don't you go down that path! It's not true! growled Sirius, lunging forward to grab Remus's shoulders. He gave his friend a quick shake. You are a wonderful and entirely worthwhile human being, and a superb wizard. Stop that. You know you can't do anything about the wolf.  
  
Remus looked at him mournfully. Then why try? I'm a danger even to myself.  
  
Sirius's jaw clenched angrily as he railed silently against whatever powers could be so cruel as to do this to his gentle friend. Stop that. he muttered, peering closely into the amber eyes. You're a very decent person, and you deserve as much of a chance as anyone. And if you keep being all angsty, I'll — I'll — bite you!  
  
Remus laughed softly at the absurdity of the threat. Thanks, Padfoot, he whispered, pulling Sirius into an embrace. I needed that.  
  
Sirius smirked. Thought you might, he said lightly.  
  
Remus released him. And you swear there's nothing I need to worry about for classes tomorrow?  
  
He rolled his eyes. You're going to study yourself into senility. Fine, fine, I swear! he said hastily when Remus's expression grew dangerous. You know, a bit of a break would do you good.  
  
I've had a bit of a break all day. I just need to go back to what's normal for me.  
  
Speaking of normal, Moony, Sirius began, throwing a glance at James's bed, Ol' Prongsie thinks it's high time we thought of a project.  
  
Does he, now? asked Remus mildly, noting the transition back to the affectionate hypocorism.  
  
Tried to brainstorm on his own, but he wanted to include all of us.'  
  
Sweet of him, said Remus. His tone was mocking, but it touched him. Although, he really shouldn't have expected anything else; the only thing they had ever excluded him from was learning to be Animagi, and that was because it was to be a surprise. As it turned out, it was impossible for a Dark Creature to become an Animagus, which they hadn't known.  
  
I don't know, after the amount of work Prongsie's last project called for, I might have to knock some sense into him. He somehow managed not to have the late nights, as well. James had used the excuse of Prefect duties to get out of some of the less desirable mapmaking tasks the previous year. He did a share of sneaking about invisible, and quite a lot of the advanced enchantments on the parchment, but he seemed to get more sleep than the rest of them, and snared the investigative assignments that were least likely to get him caught and punished. Sirius in particular resented that, for he had had numerous close encounters (and detentions) with Brindle and the crotchety caretaker, Argus Filch, and he wondered how they could have let James get away with it.  
  
You know we'll do whatever he asks of us anyway, whatever the project will be, said Remus.  
  
Sirius laughed. Yeah, I know.  
  
Remus stood and crossed to the window, leaving the tray for the house-elves.  
  
Oh, Moony — Snivellus Snape asked about you today. Remus froze mid-step. I don't think he knows. I don't even think he suspects anything unusual — but he noticed your absence. Tried to make something of it, be cutting. It was pathetic, really.  
  
A terrible cold feeling spread over Remus, and he stared at Sirius without seeing. Noticing was the first step on the way to knowing, and if Snape found out... The entire school would know the next day, and they would fear him, hate him, like the villagers where he was Turned had. And their parents would find out, and then the letters would come. _How can this monster be allowed to endanger our children? The werewolf must be removed — controlled — killed!_  
  
Sirius was still talking, on a tirade about how abhorrent Snape was. How could Sirius still be talking? Did he not realize how serious this situation was? Could he not see how dangerous Snape had suddenly become? Sirius was standing next to him now, saying, Remus, Remus, calm down! If he starts to get too close, we'll tell Dumbledore. He wouldn't let anything happen to one of his students. It'll all be fine. He's too much of a stupid git to figure it out, anyway. Sirius kept talking, his blue gaze steady and calming, and Remus clung to his presence like it was his last lifeline. Everything would be all right, just like Sirius said it would, because Sirius was often right about these things: they worked themselves out. And in the meantime, we can make that git's life miserable! he finished cheerfully.  
  
Arabella wouldn't like that much, and I still don't want her to despise me, said Remus, almost automatically.  
  
Sirius fixed him with a very peculiar look. No, I suppose not, he said, and sounded peculiar as well. He moved off toward the window, looking out, and Remus watched him closely.  
  
He was taller than Remus, and athletically slim. His shoulders were broad and muscular: a Beater had to be strong, to combat the heavy metal Bludgers. His arms were folded across his chest as he studied the night. His dark hair fell in elegant waves. Sirius was exceedingly handsome, with roguish good looks; he didn't knot his tie, tuck in his shirt, or button his cuffs or collar. And he was charming and charismatic to boot. It struck Remus, just then as Sirius stood luminous in the moonlight, exactly why the boy was so sought-after: he was a tall, dark, and handsome fantasy come to life. Remus felt vaguely jealous and — appreciative?  
  
Sirius finished deliberating and turned abruptly to Remus. My offer still stands, Re.


	6. Augury and Dark Wizards

Chapter 6  
  
Remus sat as close to the window as he could get in Divination, and contemplated the shape of his hands. True, palmistry had been covered several years ago, but his own hands were far more reassuring than the chicken entrails spread before him.  
  
Augury. Why did it have to be augury? asked Kenneth Jamison. The rest of Gryffindor house had already dropped the class, so Remus went to Divination with the sixth-year Hufflepuffs.  
  
The usual heavy perfume of Trelawney's tower-top classroom was enough to give Remus migraines, but the stench of dead and disemboweled poultry sent his stomach into his throat. He edged his pouf further from the table and closer to the window, mercifully opened — but only slightly. Professor Trelawney apparently preferred to attempt to mask the poultry smells with copious amounts of strong incense, rather than (god forbid) air out the room. A breeze brushed his hair against his cheek, and it smelled of outdoors.  
  
All right, Lupin? You look a bit green, asked Ellen Henley.  
  
No, I think he's more grey... commented Thomas Stirling, peering thoughtfully at Remus.  
  
For the three weeks since the beginning of term, they had been reviewing from previous years, for the spirits inform me that the N.E.W.T. examinations will cover previous material, Trelawney had misted at them. It had been fairly innocuous. However, today they had begun learning augury, and it disagreed with Remus in a big way.  
  
I'm not enjoying the air at the moment, said Remus faintly. _By Selene, it's worse than the Potions dungeon..._  
  
said Stirling.  
  
Well, just try to inhale away from the table, suggested Jamison.  
  
Are you _trying_ to make him suffocate on the incense fumes? Henley accused.  
  
Now, now, Miss Henley, the aroma stimulates the inner eye, scolded Trelawney mystically as she wafted toward them. Her enormous eyes lit on the window, and she rushed to pull it closed, latching it firmly. There. That should be better. She flitted away, and her passing sent a gust of incense-and-intestine-scented air toward Remus. He tried desperately not to breathe, but failed — and took a gasp of the nauseating air.  
  
Jamison exclaimed, as Remus stood abruptly and made for the trapdoor. He managed to make it into the nearest restroom and to the sink.  
  
He scooped water into his mouth from the tap and wiped his face on a towel.  
  
That was charming, Moony.  
  
Remus turned. Skiving off Muggle Studies again, Padfoot? It's not even October yet.  
  
Sirius shrugged. Professor Dobbin is absurd. And I wouldn't be learning anything, anyway, I spend more time in Muggle London than in my house. What's your story? Studious werewolf vomits in sink?  
  
said Remus flatly.  
  
Is that the chicken guts? He nodded. I see.  
  
Remus drew the sleeve of his robe across his forehead, got a good whiff of it — and turned to retch again. Leaning over the sink, he was dimly aware of Sirius rubbing his back. After a moment he made to shrug off his robes and loosen his tie. He realised that his clothes would be saturated with the stench — and his hair, as well.   
  
his friend answered.  
  
I think I need to go shower...  
  
I'll walk you to the dorm.  
  
And can you get my bag from Trelawney? And an anti-nausea elixir from Pomfrey?  
  
Of course, Re. Always. I'll tell her about the augury problem, maybe she can get you out of it. Come on. He draped the werewolf's arm over his shoulder and put an arm securely about his narrow waist, because he looked shaky.  
  
Sirius grinned across the common room at Remus. Good news, Re — you get to help Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing until Trelawney's done teaching augury. The look of relief on his face made Sirius laugh. And here's your potion, my poor sick pup, and your bag — I charmed that lovely odor away for you.  
  
Remus shook his damp hair away from his eyes and reached for the vial of elixir. He had managed fairly well until he disrobed for his shower. The stench hit him full in the face as he was shoving the contaminated clothing down the laundry chute, and he'd just managed to make it to the loo before vomiting.  
  
What do you call that scent, anyway? asked Sirius, his blue eyes twinkling.  
  
Eau d'entrails, said Remus, and downed the elixir, throwing his head back.  
  
Sirius snickered. Trelawney's personal line of perfume. Revolting.  
  
Remus blinked at his friend. They're just letting you keep skipping Dobbin's class?  
  
Well, actually — I don't think McGonagall and Dumbledore know. Sirius winked. Dobbin never notices, anyway. I've only ever gotten one detention for it.  
  
Supper that night was chicken.  
  
Of course, Remus muttered. His friends, having heard everything from Sirius, looked at him sympathetically, and he even received a few concerned glances from the Hufflepuff classmates he had run out on. He supposed they and the Gryffindor girls merely thought he had a delicate stomach.  
  
All right, Lupin? called Jamison.  
  
Much better now, he replied, with a slightly wan smile.  
  
Why are you still taking Divination, anyway? asked Margaret.  
  
Remus shrugged. The theory and history behind it is interesting — and some of it isn't so bad, like palmistry and tarot.  
  
You're such a scholar! It sounded like a bad thing, the way Peter said it. What could you ever do by knowing the theory and history of Divination? Take Trelawney's job? he scoffed.  
  
You'd do well to be a bit more scholarly, Peter, chastised Lily.  
  
Arabella smiled teasingly. Although Remus is the one who'll have grey hair when he's twenty.  
  
Or sixteen, said James, catching hold of a lock of Remus's hair and examining it from across the table. Look, right there. See?  
  
Have your friends finally found your brain, Lupin? asked Snape. He stood behind Remus, sneering.  
  
Actually, we were wondering if it was yours, Snivellus, since it was so hard to see. You've been missing it for about six years, haven't you? Sirius retorted.  
  
Arabella spoke over whatever anyone might have said next.  
  
Belle. A word?  
  
Lily raised her eyebrows doubtfully at Arabella, but the blonde girl excused herself quickly. They left, and Margaret pulled a face at Snape's retreating back. Lily frowned. I don't like that. He doesn't deserve Belle at all.  
  
He's bad for her, agreed Peter, nodding.  
  
And how, interjected Sirius.  
  
Margaret bit her lip. I don't know — he really cares about her, I think. There was a in her tone, but she did not voice her reservations.  
  
Well, Severus? What's this word' we're to have _about_? Arabella studied his face earnestly, though her words were teasing. His deep, dark eyes bored into her with an intensity that was sometimes frightening. Another girl might have found the hooked nose off-putting, but Arabella liked the distinction and dignity it gave to the angular face, and when she reached up to rub a lock of dark hair between her fingers, it was soft as her own.  
  
It is about, Snape began, pausing to rake over her with his eyes, And he ducked his head to capture her lips in a soft kiss, his hands rising to hold her wrists. She kissed back quite impatiently, and he pulled away, tilting his face upwards and out of her reach.  
  
You horrible, teasing Slytherin, she said petulantly. He laughed, very softly, never moving his eyes from her own. It's not very fair for you to come and fetch me from supper, and then be a tease.  
  
Snape merely gazed at her and raised an eyebrow. Ah, but you were a tease for the entirety of the spring term last year. I think it's my turn, at least for a little while. Brindle had forced them together in Potions, and an odd sort of affection had developed between them. It had become something more in the spring term, over many hours of feverish O.W.L. preparation, and equally feverish lips and hands. And I think I'm owed a bit of teasing you, because I've tried very hard to be civil to those — _people_ — you call friends. He sneered a bit in disdain.  
  
Arabella sighed wearily and rested her forehead against his chest. And I thank you, Severus, for making the effort. Merlin knows _they're_ not about to. They're so childish sometimes. You've shown remarkable restraint.  
  
That's nothing compared to the restraint I'm showing in not ravishing you right now. he whispered against her golden hair, and bent his head to nibble at her earlobe. She truly had no idea how much restraint he had shown by not skinning Black and Potter alive when he'd awakened in the library in the middle of the night, bound spread eagled to a table with the words slimy git emblazoned across his chest and his hair smeared with petroleum jelly. Of course, he _had_ been insulting Pettigrew and Lupin, and he _had_ taken revenge by setting them up to lose dozens of House points in Potions.  
  
She giggled as he began to do incredibly interesting things to her neck. Ravish away, Severus, she breathed, tilting her head to expose more skin to him. He undid several buttons of her blouse to bare her shoulder, exquisitely aware of her: her hands, splayed across his back and twining in his hair; her halting breaths; the delicious scent of her creamy skin; the way she shivered in his arms when he nibbled at her throat...  
  
Arabella suddenly caught at his hands, which were sliding up her thighs and under her skirt, and held them tightly in her own. He twisted them from her grasp and now they were slipping up the back of her shirt and she shuddered as they traced her spine. Not here, she hissed in his ear.  
  
Then let us go someplace more... suitable. murmured Snape, claiming her lips once more.  
  
Lily, Margaret, and Peter sat in the common room, doing homework — at least, Peter was, and Lily read over what he had already done while Margaret talked him through the current assignment.  
  
Peter, belladonna doesn't grow in taiga, weren't you listening? scolded Lily absently as the wrote notes on Peter's Herbology paper. I hope you'll have time to recopy all this.  
  
The portrait swung open and James stepped in, holding an irate Lancelot in his arms. Look who I found trying to get into the kitchens, he said to Lily, who smiled dazzlingly and plucked the cat from his arms.  
  
So that's how he keeps gaining weight. I've put him on a diet, but that does nothing if the house-elves keep feeding him.  
  
James planted a kiss on her forehead, then surveyed the parchment spread over the table. You know, Peter, once we've graduated, you won't have all of us to do your work for you. However will you manage?  
  
Lancelot leapt from Lily's lap onto the table, where he very deliberately stepped all over the assignment Peter was working on, smearing the ink and getting little kitty-prints everywhere.  
  
exclaimed Peter, shooing the cat off the table. You know, sometimes I think Belle has the right idea about cats.  
  
Oh, not you, too, groaned Lily. I've had quite enough of the cat debate. She caught Lancelot and _scourgified_ his inky paws.  
  
You've had enough? At least you aren't going mad listening to the stupid, constant back-and-forth, shrilled Margaret.  
  
Speaking of Belle, James interrupted, speaking over the girls, where is she? And Remus and Sirius?  
  
Belle still hasn't turned up, Lily said darkly, her lips thinning with disapproval in a remarkably McGonagall-like fashion.  
  
Remus and Sirius are up in the dormitory. I think Remus still isn't feeling well, and Sirius is being a mother hen, said Margaret.  
  
It must have been the chicken at supper, poor dear, Lily clucked. But if you're going up, tell Remus his help would be much appreciated, if he feels able. And yours as well. She glanced pointedly at Peter, who was bent over the table, trying to salvage what Lancelot had stepped on. He was so absorbed that he didn't notice his mousy blonde hair falling into the ink.  
  
James sighed. I suppose I'll just stay, he relented, pulling out his wand to assist Peter.  
  
When Sirius sauntered towel-clad into the boys' toilet, Remus was peering into the mirror over a sink. My god, it _is_ grey, he muttered, tugging at the offending hairs.  
  
But it becomes you, Re, said Sirius, staying his hand. He glanced briefly at his own reflection. If I had grey hair, I'd just look old.  
  
But I'm sixteen! I shouldn't have grey hair! wailed Remus, waving his arms and glaring accusingly at the mirror, which shimmered in what could have been a shrug. The bathroom mirrors were far more reserved than the ones in the dormitory. It's abnormal! Unheard of!  
  
Maybe it isn't abnormal, said Sirius. You don't know.  
  
Remus fixed him with a skeptical look. You think it's something to do with lycanthropy.  
  
The flatness in those mutable hazel eyes wrenched at Sirius. It could be! He sounded defensive, even to his own ears. You've never met another werewolf. You don't know. And it's hardly something that would turn up in a book on Dark Creatures. Remus started to turn away. Don't you look at me like that, Re, I know you've read them all. It was true, he had; Remus made pilgrimages to the library almost daily, and his trunk and bookshelves at home were a veritable treasure trove of resources on Dark Creatures. His own condition had led him to this obsession and others, and he had acquired an intimate and encyclopedic knowledge of werewolves.  
  
And I'm sure it doesn't help that you run yourself ragged, Sirius went on, as though you've got something to prove. You don't, Remus, you really don't. All you're doing is piling more and more stress on top of yourself. You're bound to reach a breaking point someday, and it looks to be soon. He steered Remus away from the mirror and into the dormitory, and made him sit on his bed. You said you were still feeling ill, and we've got Defense tomorrow, so rest up.  
  
Remus made no move to get into bed, preferring instead to watch Sirius return to the bathroom. His back was still golden with the summer's tan, and his Quidditch-toned muscles moved tantalizingly beneath his skin. Skin that Remus would like to — _What am I doing?_ But some small part of him knew perfectly well what he was doing: he was still contemplating Sirius's proposition. He tugged absently at the lock of hair causing him so much grief.  
  
When Sirius returned, flushed from the hot shower and in his pyjamas, he shook his head. Remus was still sitting up, tugging at his hair. Third quarter. You're so hypersensitive at third quarter, Re. Go to bed.  
  
Professor Amanita Sontuoso looked at her class very seriously. She had decided upon waking that morning that she would eschew her lesson plan for that day (Disorienting Jinxes) and have a discussion with her sixth-year students. She had a feeling that the seven Gryffindors she regarded would take this a great deal better than the Hufflepuffs she had just sent on their way.  
  
You may put your wands away.  
  
The Gryffindors gaped at her in shock. No one had ever expected Sontuoso to utter those words; every one of her lessons was practical.  
  
Sontuoso sighed impatiently. Well? What are you waiting for? _Rapidamente_!  
  
Are we going to learn what to do if we're disarmed by an opponent? asked Sirius eagerly. The professor gave him a withering look.  
  
No, _Signore_ Black, we are not. Today we are going to have a talk. There was no mistaking the freezing tones of her voice, even through the melodious Italian accent. This news disturbed the Gryffindors as nothing else in her lessons had. Something, they rightly supposed, must be very wrong. However, it was hardly a recent something.  
  
Some of you may have been wondering about the curriculum my colleague Professor Wilkes and I have been teaching. It is practical, yes, but it is not what was taught even seven years ago. Only recently have we received the official approval of the Ministry of Magic for what has been taught to you.  
  
The headmaster has encountered heavy criticism for allowing me to demonstrate the Imperius Curse in class, and allowing me to teach you resistance. Recent events have forced these critics to reevaluate their position. Sontuoso looked at them gravely. She had been delaying this discussion for three weeks, preferring to review previous years and briefly cite objectives for the term. Now, with nothing else to stall her, she was more unwilling than ever to shatter the safe, sparkling world of these teenagers. With the newfound support of the Ministry, however, she and Dumbledore had agreed that it was better that the students understood what the real motive was.  
  
How many of you subscribe to the Daily Prophet — and actually read the news, _Signor_ Pettigrew? The seven Gryffindors looked at each other uncertainly. Lily and Remus raised their hands.  
  
Well, sometimes, amended Lily at the arching of the professor's slim black eyebrow, and Remus nodded.  
  
You may or may not be aware of an event that occurred this summer, continued Sontuoso smoothly. A wizard under the control of Imperius attempted to kill several wizards crossing into Muggle London with a Slashing curse. He did not succeed, but several wizards and Muggles were injured in the attempt. However, the most serious aspect of this attack is that the perpetrator of the Imperius Curse could not be identified. When questioned with Veritaserum, the wizard could only tell Aurors that the caster was masked and wearing a black cloak and robes. the wizard also said that the perpetrator called him a filthy Mudblood.'  
  
There was a murmur in the classroom, and Lily looked down at the desk, lips pursed. James clenched his jaw in bitter anger. Sontuoso waited for the class to quiet before she continued, This is but the most serious in a rash of hate crimes against Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. The connecting element is the masked, cloaked perpetrator, and the Ministry has been blaming a cult. Professor Dumbledore, however, suspects something far more sinister.  
  
The Gryffindors exchanged a worried glance. Dumbledore had his sources, they knew, and if he was worried, doubtless the rest of the wizarding world should be as well.  
  
It is because of these suspicions that Professor Dumbledore has requested that I teach more advanced material, and the Ministry at last has come to see the sense in this.  
  
James timidly raised his hand. Professor, if it's not top secret information or something, what does Dumbledore suspect?  
  
She had known this question would follow, and it was the hardest part to disclose. The Hufflepuffs had nearly panicked, and she suspected the other Houses would react rather badly, as well. The Gryffindors, she felt, would be the most rational about it; they were certainly her favourites. Sontuoso sighed. The headmaster believes that a powerful dark wizard is rising, a Dark Lord the likes of whom has not been seen since the fall of Grindelwald.  
  
A stunned silence froze the seven Gryffindors in place. Dark Lords were matters of lore and History of Magic, not their very practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Of course, there was no question of doubting Dumbledore. The headmaster had the implicit trust of three-fourths of the school, and possibly more (not all the Slytherins were idiots).  
  
Remus could almost see the wheels turning in James's head. You're training us. So we will be better prepared to take on this rising Dark Lord.  
  
Professor Sontuoso regarded them solemnly. _Sì_,_ Signore_ Potter, this is precisely what I am doing.


End file.
